


Willow River: Day Two

by istie, Lostboys143, planetlostinspace, ricky_goldsworth, sessrumnir, shareyoursunshines, WitchBoyWriter



Series: Willow River [2]
Category: Buzzfeed The Try Guys (Web Series), Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series), Original Work
Genre: Adoptive family, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Monster Hunters, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Buzzfeed Unsolved Cinematic Universe - Freeform, Collaborative fic, Fluff, Gen, Implied Relationships, Monster of the Week, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 08:10:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14911656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/istie/pseuds/istie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lostboys143/pseuds/Lostboys143, https://archiveofourown.org/users/planetlostinspace/pseuds/planetlostinspace, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricky_goldsworth/pseuds/ricky_goldsworth, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sessrumnir/pseuds/sessrumnir, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shareyoursunshines/pseuds/shareyoursunshines, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchBoyWriter/pseuds/WitchBoyWriter
Summary: There's a tiny town in British Columbia where strange things happen, and strange people meet. Sometimes they hunt monsters, to keep the town safe, but some of them may be monsters themselves. The adventures continue, as plans are made to hunt the monster on the edge of town...





	1. Morning

**Author's Note:**

> You definitely want to read this series in order! If you haven't read Willow River: Day One yet, go read it now!
> 
> \---
> 
> Since March of 2018, myself and six friends have been playing an online Monster of the Week campaign, with myself as Keeper (or dungeon master, if you prefer). It has evolved into two months of intense emotional journey, and we're having so much fun that we thought we should share it with you.
> 
> Basic credits: story and narration by me, characters' backstories and actions by their respective players...
> 
> The main cast is, in alphabetical order by last name:  
> Owen Atwin, played by @WitchBoyWriter;  
> Chen Xiaolian, played by @Lostboys143;  
> James Finn, played by @planetlostinspace;  
> Mikaere Jones, played by @ghoul_ish;  
> Roan Morris, played by @girlwiththebooks;  
> Cassandra Wojtek, played by @sessrumnir;  
> something like two dozen NPCs, played by @istie,  
> and the narrator, also played by @istie.
> 
> I have edited our transcripts down into novel format: most times a character is speaking or acting, they are being played by their player - only in montages or scene descriptions do I, as Keeper, have control. I have also edited out our rolls, as Monster of the Week is a dice-based game: you only see the narrative results.
> 
> We hope you enjoy reading as much as we have enjoyed playing so far!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hover over italicised foreign language text for translations! (Mobile and tablet users, please see the ending notes.) These are not written by native speakers by any means, please forgive the inevitable terrible errors if you are a speaker!

Many hours later, there is a soft knock at the door, and a soft voice. “Owen?” Adam says. “Are you awake yet?”

Owen was not awake. He was curled up under all the blankets, cuddling the pillow.

The door opens, almost soundlessly, and Adam comes over to the bed. He watches Owen for a second, frowns worriedly, and reaches out to touch the one hand he can see.

Owen lets out a soft sound of acknowledgement as he wakes up, peeking out of the blanket.

Adam lays his hand on Owen's, gently, and it feels warmer than it should ... but then normal again. Adam frowns more deeply, then notices Owen looking at him, and takes his hand away. “Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you if you were still asleep. Are you hungry?”  The answer is, of course, yes, but ... oddly, Owen isn't particularly tempted to take a bite out of Adam.

“Uh, no, I'm okay,” Owen says softly, sitting up. He'd probably had the best sleep of his life.

Adam keeps frowning. “You should definitely be hungry by now, Owen, you've slept for over twelve hours.”

“I'm fine,” Owen insists. “Really.”

Adam sighs. “Alright, if you say so. C'mon downstairs. D'you wanna change first? Steven said any of the clothes he sent up last night are cool for you to keep.”

“... Should I?” Owen asks. “I don't know how often I'm supposed to.”

“Um,” Adam says, “well, I mean, usually you wear fresh clothes for the daytime, and pajamas at night. You stay cleaner that way.”

“Okay.” Owen nods. “I guess I'll change, then.” He gets up out of bed.

Adam steps out of the room, one foot still in the door, to give him some privacy again.

Owen changes his clothes quickly, putting the old ones on the bed, not sure what to do with them. When he's done, he heads towards the door.

Adam brings Owen down to the main level, and through a door into the inner workings of the M&D café. Andrew is slicing a large ham and keeping an eye on a batch of buns proofing in the oven; there is a man of a similar age to Andrew chopping carrots off to the side; and there is a young woman with straight black hair who looks roughly Owen's age standing at the service counter, pulling an espresso for a girl with shockingly pink hair. Owen has never seen hair like that before.

Xiaolian struggles for a second to look away from Sara to greet Adam. “Ada—” She visibly freezes when she sees the newcomer that’s come down with Adam.

Owen tries to stay as hidden behind Adam as possible, not ready for this much human interaction.

Adam reaches behind him, offering Owen his hand.

Owen looks at Adam’s hand, confused about what to do with it.

Xiaolian watches the interaction very carefully. After she finishes helping Sara, she wipes her hands off on her apron before walking slowly over. She tries to put on her most gentle and encouraging smile she can possibly manage. “Hi there, I’m Xiaolian.”

Adam turns around, a little confused himself that Owen didn't take his hand – though his expression shifts to worry as he sees the confusion on Owen's face. As Xiaolian walks over, he positions himself just beside Owen, and he brushes the back of his hand against Owen's, giving him a smile.

Xiaolian holds out her hand in offering, trying her best to tone down her usual energy level.

Owen glances over at Adam, before looking at Xiaolian. “Hi,” he says, finally taking Adam's hand, moving closer to him. “I'm Owen.”

Adam squeezes Owen's hand, _very_ gently.

Xiaolian keeps her hand out, hoping that she won’t look stupid.

Adam catches Xiaolian's eye, glances at her hand, and minutely shakes his head. He doubts Owen will go for it. The kid might surprise him, but he seems pretty overwhelmed...

Owen, of course, has never shaken a hand. He doesn't know what Xiaolian is doing, but it's vaguely threatening, so he moves closer to Adam.

Xiaolian drops her hand immediately and tries to keep the hurt off of her face. She doesn’t succeed. “I, uh, sorry. I’ll just leave you alone I guess. Have a good day.” She gives Adam’s other hand a quick squeeze before heading over to James, pulling out her notepad.

Adam squeezes Xiaolian's hand in return, then breathes a little sigh. “C'mon, Owen, let's grab a quick snack – even if you're not hungry, _I_ am – and then we'll get Andrew, and we'll go meet our friend. Okay?”

“Who's your friend?” Owen asks softly, sounding a little worried. “...Is anyone here going to hurt me?”

“That's Xiaolian,” Adam replies. “I've known her since she was very little. And no, no one here is going to hurt you.” He leads Owen further into the kitchen – not past the counter into the main cafe – and begins putting together a lunch basket.

The bell on the door chimes as it opens and James walks in, looking around the new place he has entered. He quickly finds a comfortable seat by a table and sets down two leather-bound books, one marked اللحم الأكل and the other marked رحلة مستمرة.

Roan walks into the cafe, wincing slightly at the overly cheery door chime. When they haven’t had coffee, every noise is too cheery. Making their way to what was quickly becoming their favourite table in the place, they noted with interest that there were several new people about. Pulling out their latest book on cryptids from the bookstore, Roan makes themself comfortable while they wait on the waitress.

James looks up as Xiaolian approaches and quickly closes his two books before smiling up to her. “Morning Xiaolian.”

Xiaolian gives a James a small smile. “Hey James.”

“So, is this the place that makes those amazing donuts from yesterday?”

Xiaolian is still a little distracted from being turned down so all she can really offer is a “yeah.”

James tilts his head and frowns a little. “You doing okay, Xiaolian?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m fine. What can I get you?”

“Just some coffee, milk and two sugars.”

Xiaolian nods and writes it down. “Any pastry to go with that today? We have our apple fritters that just came out of the oven.”

“I'll take one of those.” He smiles at Xiaolian. He likes talking to her but he wants to continue doing his research.

Xiaolian smiles softly before she heads over to the other person who came in and sat down. “Hi, I’m Xiaolian. Can I get you something to drink today?”

Roan looks up from their book, giving a quick smile to Xiaolian. “I’m Roan. And I’ll have a black coffee and... what cookies do you have?”

“We have our plain fairy-shaped sugar cookies, our ‘Hell or Heaven’ black and white cookies, silver obolos macaroons, and gold dragon coin peanut butter cookies.”

Roan’s eyes light up at the sheer amount of choice. “Oh damn. I’ll try a peanut butter one first, thanks.” They smile softly at the waitress, trying to figure out if they’re supposed to ask her what’s wrong, before dismissing the idea. If they ask, they might have to have a _conversation_ and they just weren’t ready for that today.

“The dragon coins come in an order of a dozen, is that okay?” asks Xiaolian.

“Definitely,” Roan replies, “you can never have too many cookies.”

Xiaolian can't help but give small laugh at that. “I’ll bring that right out for you.” Xiaolian hears Andrew from the kitchen, calling her, so she heads to the kitchen and steps into the back. “Andrew?”

Andrew is there with Adam and the new kid, Owen; Adam has a basket over one arm.  “We're heading out, very briefly, like I mentioned when you got here. Taking Owen to see Banjo. You and Bolin have the store – we shouldn't be gone more than half an hour.” He taps his pocket. “And we have our phones if anything goes wrong.”

Xiaolian makes a very conscious effort to not look at Owen. “Yeah, okay.” Xiaolian is very ready to let them leave at that but with the mention of Banjo, she’s reminded of the previous day’s news and can’t help the fear that rises in her. She grabs Andrew’s sleeve, feeling very much like her nine-year-old self. “B-be safe alright?”

A rare occurrence: Andrew smiles, and puts his hand on her shoulder. “We'll be fine.”

Xiaolian gives a quick nod, not trusting herself to do much more. Andrew’s smile calmed the fear but only so much. She makes a shooing motion. “Now get out, I can’t have hooligans running around in _my_ kitchen.”

Andrew snorts. “Yes _ma'am._ ”

He and Adam lead Owen out through the café side. Adam's proximity seems to be doing a good job of keeping Owen's hunger in check (he's still not quite sure how that works, but he's not complaining), but the presence and scent of so many people in close quarters, when he's scared and not in his element... It's not a fun few seconds.  As he walks through the cafe, one of the patrons crosses directly in front of him: the turquoise-haired person, heading up to the counter to get their cookies. They smell _incredible_ , and they're just close enough... Owen's eyes glaze over, he stumbles, he stares at the person and starts to move toward them, his arms coming up to reach for them.

Adam clears his throat. Andrew's head snaps around in response. He takes in what Owen is doing and in an instant, almost before Roan (or anyone else in the cafe) realizes what is happening, Andrew has swept Owen up into his arms and then over his shoulders, like he weighs nothing at all. (Which is close to true, but not entirely.)  In seconds, the three of them are out the door and headed down the street – and while Owen's closer to another person than he's ever been in his life, Andrew does not smell particularly appetizing.

Owen just lets Andrew carry him, and actually clings onto him, looking like he's going to cry. Of course he doesn't _want_ to eat anyone. “I'm sorry,” he whispers.

“It's okay,” comes Adam's voice, just beside him, as soothing as ever. “We'll figure this out.”

They cross the street and come to an old two-storey building with dusty windows and a Canada Post sign. Andrew, holding Owen on his shoulders with one arm, opens the door with his other hand, and they step inside.

Owen burrows his face against Andrew, both upset with himself and embarrassed. The contact feels _really nice_ , though: he feels _safe_.

The building smells dusty, but clean, and it feels _extra_ safe, somehow. Owen feels Andrew walking again, further into the building, and hears Adam close the door behind them. A few seconds later, he hears an unfamiliar voice – male, deep, rough.  “What have you got for me this time, boys?”

Owen just whimpers softly. The sense of security was gone. “Please don't hurt me,” he says softly.

Andrew gently shifts Owen off his shoulders, setting him on his feet. Adam sets the lunch basket down on a table – Owen can see they're in a small kitchen – and takes Owen's hand. “No one's gonna hurt you, Owen,” Adam says, and squeezes his hand.

Leaning on the counter across from them is an older man – probably in his fifties – a little taller than average, short-cropped salt and pepper hair and beard, tanned skin with dozens of wrinkles from the sun. He's slim and chiseled, very much in shape: he has the look of an ultramarathon runner. He looks friendly enough, but very serious. He's wearing worn blue jeans and a blue plaid flannel open over a black shirt, and the hint of a gold chain peeks out below the collar. His eyes are bright blue.

“Banjo, this is Owen,” Andrew says. “Ryan and Cecilia found him in the woods last night.”

Owen immediately wraps himself around Adam's arm. Sure, Andrew made him feel safe, but Adam definitely made him feel saf _er_. He looks at the man, Banjo, not saying anything.

Banjo looks him up and down. “Hello Owen,” he says, not unkindly. “What brings you to our neck of the woods?”

“I'm sorry,” Owen says in lieu of a response. “I didn't hurt anyone, I _promise._ ”

Banjo's eyebrows shoot up. “Who said you hurt anyone?”

“I _didn't_ ,” he repeats, insistently. “And I don't want to and I promise I'm not going to.”

“He hasn't eaten the entire time he's been here,” Andrew says, “and he says he's been homeless as long as he can remember.”

“I couldn't do anything. I tried. And...” Adam starts, then stops and sighs. “I'm sorry, Owen,” he says, looking at Owen apologetically, then back at Banjo. “He looked real weird at one of the customers just before we brought him over.”

Owen buries his face in Adam's arm, still not trusting that he was safe.

“Hmmm,” Banjo murmurs, stepping forward off the counter and closer to them. “You are a mighty unhappy boy, aren't you, young Owen.”

Owen doesn't answer him, keeping his face hidden in Adam's arm.

There's a _long_ quiet moment. Then Banjo moves away, opens a kitchen cupboard – which is, incidentally, chock full of books – and pulls a book out, flipping through it casually.  He closes the book, puts it on the counter, then goes and opens the fridge. (The fridge is _not_ full of books.)  He grabs a fork from the counter, opens a jar, pulls something out of the jar, and comes back over to the trio. He holds the fork out to Owen. It smells _damn_ good. Better than anything he's ever smelled, almost. Except maybe the turquoise person.  “Kid,” Banjo says, “have some breakfast.”

Owen looks up at Banjo, surprised, and then down at the fork. He takes it, and eats quickly.

“That's what I thought,” Banjo says, unhappily.

Andrew raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Banjo nods. “Boys, we've found ourselves a ghoul. Half-ghoul, I'd wager.”

Owen looks up at Banjo, just as surprised as the others. “...A what?”

The weathered man smiles sadly. “A half-ghoul. You're not all the way human, kid. Let me guess: there was at least one parent that you never met, right? And you ran away – or maybe got thrown out – when you started showing ... _unnatural_ dietary habits.”

Owen just nods, looking uncomfortable. He didn't want to think too much about his childhood. “...Yeah.”

“Been on the run ever since?”

Owen just nods.

Banjo exhales softly. “Alright, kid, now here's the question that's no fun, and I'm sorry.” He steps forward, right in front of Owen, and squats. He looks up at Owen, his rugged face earnest and open. “I promise on my old grimoire that no matter what the answer is, I will do my part to help you and keep you safe, and I will _not_ hurt you. But I have to ask: did you attack the woman I found yesterday morning?”

Adam puts his hands on Owen's shoulders, radiating warmth.

Owen shakes his head. “No. I don't do that,” he says honestly, leaning against Adam.

“Okay. I believe you. So you scavenge, huh? Admirable. That's a rough life. You're a tough kid.” He scratches his beard. “Do you happen to know what _did_ attack her?”

“...No?”  Owen thinks back.  “I did... see something else in the woods. He had a leg,” he admits.

Banjo frowns. “Another ghoul?”

Owen nods. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Half-ghoul like you? Or did it seem ... further gone? Less human?”

“Not like me,” Owen says. “He couldn't talk or anything.”

Banjo nods slowly. “Okay. Full ghoul.” He pauses. “Wait. Couldn't talk? Did you try to talk to it? What happened? Are you okay?”

“Oh. He, uh. Fed me.” Owen says softly.

“Oh, Owen,” sighs Banjo, “I'm so sorry.”

Adam's hands tighten on Owen’s shoulders.

“Okay,” Banjo says, standing up. “Here's what we're gonna do. Stay wherever you like in town. We'll take care of you. How often do you need to eat?”

“I don't know... not that much.” Owen shrugs. “You don't have to take care of me, I can leave,” he insists.

“Not happening,” Banjo says, firmly. “You look like you're, what, late teens? If I'm being generous? You've been hiding in the woods and fending for yourself for God knows how long. We have the resources here to help you out, and we want to.”  He goes over to the fridge and pulls out the jar. “At least give us a trial run. Stay the month. Let us find the poor bastard out in the woods and let him rest. If you like it here, stay. If you don't, we'll help you move on to somewhere else. But this existence ... “ He waves his free hand at Owen. “You're allowed to have a better life than this, Owen. What you are, what you need ... they're not your fault. We can help you live with it _and_ live with people. You don't have to give up...” He looks at Adam, and Adam wraps Owen up into a hug. “You don't have to give _that_ up.”

Owen almost starts to cry, melting against Adam. “Okay,” he says softly, almost a whisper. “I'll stay here... I promise I won't hurt anyone.”

Adam holds him close for a few seconds, then gently pulls away, still keeping his hands on his shoulders. He smiles.

“We know, buddy,” Banjo says. “We got you.”

Andrew, who's been quiet this whole time, finally speaks up. “Banjo, I respect the hell out of you, but I have to ask: why do you have human flesh in your fridge?”

Banjo snorts. “Because I've lived my whole life in Willow River, and strange things happen here. Don't you try to tell me there aren't strange things in _your_ life, Mr Ilnyckyj.” He jabs a finger at Andrew, who just raises an eyebrow in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations:  
> اللحم الأكل [flesh eating]  
> رحلة مستمرة [ongoing journey]


	2. Afternoon - Evening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hover over italicised foreign language text for translations! (Mobile and tablet users, please see the ending notes.) These are not written by native speakers by any means, please forgive the inevitable terrible errors if you are a speaker!

There are eight people seated around the boardroom table in Ryan's work room. Well, seven people: one is standing by a whiteboard, which has been fully erased. The blinds are drawn over the single window, and everyone has a cup of coffee in front of them.

Banjo leans up against the whiteboard and heaves a sigh, spinning a dry-erase marker in his fingers. “Alright. I think we've officially got a situation on our hands, folks.” General nods and murmurs of assent echo around the table. “We have a confirmed half-ghoul in town, so that'll be fun. And a suspected full ghoul out in the woods somewhere.  According to Mr. Bergara's mapping, the next likely incident will be in the next week or so, either in the park or close to the edge. If all these incidents are indeed the ghoul, it's moving north-east, which puts it on a direct path from the mountains.”  The group of people around the table heave a sigh.

“I say we need to take the ghoul out first,” says a woman, who is leaning back in her chair with her feet up on the table. “It's still a danger.”

“I disagree,” says an acerbic baritone, sipping his coffee. “I say we wait and watch where it goes.”

“We can't _do_ that,” argues another man. “More people could get hurt. What if it goes for someone still alive next time?”

Another man sitting with his feet up on the table shrugs nonchalantly. “There's always a price to be paid. I'm with Andrew. We need to know where it's going. What's in the forest?”

“What's _not_ in the forest?” counters a woman who hasn't spoken yet, who's got her arms crossed and is tapping her foot impatiently. “That place is brimming with activity.”

The man with his feet up rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean, Francesca. What's it going for? What does it want? Why is it going north-east? If it just wanted food, why didn't it stay in Prince George?”

The argumentative man huffs. “It's a _ghoul_ , Shane, it hasn't really got the best _critical thinking skills_.”

The man with his feet up shrugs and sips his coffee. “Way to make my point for me, Bergara.”

“I think we're going to have to split up,” says the one man who hasn't spoken yet, a soft-spoken man who is sitting next to the acerbic baritone. “There's enough of us that it shouldn't be too dangerous.”

The man standing at the whiteboard grunts. “I don't like it, Adam, but I think you're right. How are we splitting these teams, and who's going where?”

The first woman who spoke takes her feet off the table and adjusts her duster. “We need a ghoul-hunting team, and a team to go to the mountains. I don't like either of them. I'll take the mountains.”

The man at the board writes _CC_ , then above it, mountains, and beside that, forest. “Alright,” he says, “who's next?”

There's a moment of silence while everyone thinks, staring at the board.

“... I actually think the mountains team are going to be in more danger,” muses the man who still has his feet up on the table (and who is, as a result, leaning right up against the wall, because this is not a large room, and his legs are very long). “Ghouls are slow. They're tough, but they're slow. I'd suggest myself, Andrew, and Adam for balance, and I suspect we'll be able to take the thing out in a few hours.”

The man at the whiteboard looks at the pair, sitting next to each other. “Thoughts?” Both men consider it, look at each other, look at the man across the table with his feet up, and then nod at the man at the whiteboard.

The column headed forest gets three names added to it: Andrew, Shane, and Adam. The man looks back at the group. “That leaves the rest of us for the mountains. Five and three.”

The argumentative man looks to his side. “You sure you don't want another person on that team?”

The man with his feet up shakes his head. “What, you don't think we can handle a little ol' ghoul?”

“Of _course_ you can handle a ghoul, it's just—”

“Just what, Ryan?” The man grins. “You worried about me?”

“Alright, alright, cut it out, you two,” says the woman with her arms crossed. “Ryan, I think we need you on the mountains team. We need that documented. I'm good for breaking shit, Banjo's good for keeping an eye on spooky shit, Cece will know everything and if she doesn't Banjo does – and Holly's our good luck charm.”

“God knows you'll need it,” says the only woman left who hasn't spoken, sitting next to the woman crossing her arms. “I wasn't expecting us to go to the mountains this early.”

“None of us were,” the man at the whiteboard says, “but this means things are moving. I don't know why yet, but they're moving.”

The man with his legs up takes his legs down. “Well. I guess that's that, then. What's the likelihood we'll be back by morning?”

The woman with her arms crossed looks over at him. “Pretty likely...at least, you three. The rest of us? Might take a little longer.”

* * *

It's midnight. Xiaolian slips out the back door of her house and into the woods. She grips the strap crossing her chest, and does her very best to be quiet as she runs a little deeper into the woods. “Don’t run into a bear, don’t run into a bear, don’t run into a bear.”

The moon is waxing gibbous, lighting Xiaolian's way in the dark. The woods are quiet, but the normal sounds of small critters and bugs are present.

Xiaolian comes to a stop and takes a moment to look around. She’s trying to find a spot that opens to swing a sword, but far from the last spot she practiced at. It looks like the trees clear nicely a little ways off to her left, so she makes her way over.

When she breaks through the shrubbery into clearing, she pauses to listen. When she doesn’t hear anything concerning, she heads to the middle of the clearing, pulling the strap over her head and holding the sheathed sword out in front of her.

Suddenly, she sees a bright light streak across the sky above her. It is very rapidly followed by another streak, then another, then another – all going different directions, all lasting a couple seconds then disappearing. Soon, the sky is bright as day, a web of criss-crossing lights spanning the sky.  And just as soon as it's begun, it stops, and the only lights in the sky are the moon, the stars, and the afterimages flashing over her retinas.

Xiaolian can't help but hold her breath after seeing...whatever just happened. She doesn’t really know. She could probably look more into astronomy and celestial events on her day off. But now it’s time to focus on what she came to do. She looks back down at the sword in her hands and can feel anticipation mix with fear.

The sword erupts into flames.

Xiaolian lets out a yelp and drops it.

The flames extinguish themselves as the sword hits the forest floor.

The golden color seeping into her eyes disappears the second the flames go out. “Fuck, okay. Note to self: don’t drop a fucking sword.” She takes a very deep breath before she slowly picks it up again, concentrating on... fuck! She doesn’t know! How do you even start to control a flaming sword?

She flinches when the sword lights back up again but manages to keep her hold on it. She angles the blade away from her. Her eyes start to go gold again as she stares at the flames, which dance in the darkness, gold with hints of blue. They're blinding. (This seems like something she will need to consider if she ever fights with it in the dark.) She holds it, watching, waiting ... and then she hears a familiar, disgruntled sort of huff from somewhere in front of her, but she can't see the source because of the flames. _Surely_ there's got to be a better way to do this.

“Okay okay, focus. Maybe it’s like those lights you can dim and brighten.” Xiaolian tries to imagine a knob, that controls the brightness in her mind. She visualizes turning it to the side to make the light go down a little.

The voice on the other side of the flames honest-to-God snorts.

Xiaolian can't help but feel offended. “Hey! Don’t laugh! I’m trying here, it’s not easy!” She huffs. Fucking asshole just watching her struggle.

It chuckles, vaguely. Damn thing never just up and says what it thinks.

Xiaolian lets out a groan. “Okay yeah, I’ll admit it was a stupid idea. But I don’t know what to do or focus on. Can’t you like, I don’t know, send some of that knowledge my way?”

“Don't need to,” it says. The voice is not _quite_ human ... it's got rough edges to it, and the timbre is high. Sounds like a strange cross of Stitch and Mushu.

Xiaolian throws one of her hands in the air. “What the ever-loving fuck is that supposed to mean? Don’t need to? Don’t need to what? Don’t need to focus? Don’t need to send me knowledge?”

“This? All you,” it says. “Not me. I can't tell you how to be yourself.”

That, Xiaolian reflects, was the longest phrase she's ever heard it say.

“Holy shit, I was so sure you couldn’t get any more vague, but here we are.” Xiaolian takes in a deep breath while she ponders over the advice, if it could even be called that. Not like she really had anything else to go off of. “How to be myself, huh?”

It, helpfully, doesn't say anything at all.

“Bastard.” 

Xiaolian is careful with the blade as she lowers herself to the ground, trying to sit down comfortably. She loosens her hold on the pommel, and slows down her breathing. She can hear the river rushing and the sound fills her mind. She can’t help but think about when she was younger, and got lost in the woods. She eventually came to the river. But instead of trying to find her way home, she had just stood there, alone, looking at the water.

The sound of the water fills her mind as she breathes, and as she focuses on it, it melds with the sound of the flames until she cannot distinguish the one from the other. Her eyes, trying instinctively to track the patterns in the fire, lose focus, and for a brief second she sees the flames as little dragons, swirling around each other. The dragons are gone in a heartbeat, and now the flames look like a waterfall flowing upwards, now storm clouds roiling across the sky— and then flames again, and she can hear both crackling fire and bubbling water, but the sword is dimmer, and she can see the form of the lithe Chinese dragon floating in mid-air across from her in the clearing, lying on its stomach, watching her, its head resting in its crossed arms.

Xiaolian blinks slowly, her now completely golden eyes reflecting the shimmering of the flames. She lets out a small “oh,” in one quiet breath. She feels calm, calmer than she’s ever been before.

The dragon smiles, slowly. It's a little creepy, but hey, human expressions on inhuman faces. “Better?”

“Yeah, better.” Xiaolian can't help but smile back. “Thanks for the advice...Stushu.”

It blinks. “Most definitely not my name.”

Xiaolian can't help but burst out laughing at that. She immediately loses concentration and flames blaze up once again but she can’t really find it in herself to care.

Though she can't see it, the dragon smiles wider. As she calms back down, so too do the flames.

Xiaolian wipes away the tears from laughing so hard. She looks back down in amazement, twisting the blade back and forth. “I did it. I actually did it.” She looks back at the dragon. “So if your name isn’t Stushu, what is?”

“Many names,” it muses. “Now ... Zhen? No...” It wiggles back and forth in the air briefly, watching her. “Zhiqiang. I am Zhiqiang.”

“Zhiqiang?” Xiaolian can hear her mothers voice in her head. “That means...that means ‘the will is strong’.”

It doesn't say anything in return, just continues to watch her.

Xiaolian sighs when she doesn’t get a response. “Well, let's hope for both our sakes that that will is pretty strong.” She pushes herself back up into her feet. My legs are sore, I could go for a walk.”

It's silent for a moment more, then turns around on itself once, rises up above the tree canopy, and comes back down. “You should go home,” it says, its voice more serious than before. It is no longer smiling.

Xiaolian frowns. “I don’t—” she stops herself. She looks back in the direction of home but can’t really work up the motivation to head back. Bolin was out late at some bar with friends and home was so lonely right now. She looks back up at Zhiqiang, biting her lip. “Will you walk me home at least?”

It swoops in to hover beside her.

Xiaolian could almost sob in relief. She goes to take a step but stops as she hears a twig snap. She looks back over her shoulder. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes,” it says, and then, considerably more forcefully, “ _go._ ”

Xiaolian sucks in a shaky breath. She starts running in the direction of home, trying her best to go fast but keep an eye on the bumpy forest ground.

Xiaolian runs through the forest, Zhiqiang at her side. It isn't far, but she's starting to panic a little. Zhiqiang seems to buoy her up when she almost trips the first couple times, but the third time, she goes flying, her foot fully catching under a root. She sprawls on the forest floor, and her ankle _hurts_ , but as she takes stock it doesn't seem to be damaged. Might be a bruise, but no sprain.

Zhiqiang is at her elbow in an instant, prodding her with his snout. “Up, go! You're close!”

Xiaolian scrambles to get up, ignoring the sticks and rocks cutting into her palm as pushes herself off the ground. She moves to take another step but even just bruised, her ankle practically screams. The pain shoots up her calf and her leg gives out. She grabs Zhiqiang just in time to save herself from hitting the ground again. “Fuck!”

Suddenly, Xiaolian can hear something running towards her, _very_ fast.  Xiaolian immediately takes off, ignoring the pain in her ankle, definitely slower than before.  It takes a couple seconds, but Xiaolian soon notices that Zhiqiang is gone and her sword has stopped flaming.  A few seconds after that, she is literally _run into_ by something larger and warmer than she is, and then she's ... lifted up? And still moving forward? Incredibly quickly?  She lets out a gasp and tries to see what just picked her up.

“What— the _fuck_ — is _with_ — you _people_ — being _out_ — in the **_woods_** —” pants the person carrying her as they run towards the town.

Xiaolian knows that voice. That is not a voice she would expect to hear out in the middle of the woods, in the middle of the night, running faster than should be possible… now running _away_ from the town. They've changed direction.  That's a voice she associates with pastries, with awkward hugs ...

... with books.

Xiaolian feels relief set in. But it’s immediately replaced with fear. “ _What the fuck, Shane?! Put me down_!” she starts to struggle in his arms. “ _Zhiqiang! Zhiqiang, where are you!?_ ” Her voice cracks. “Shane, please, you have to go back.”  She has no idea why her sword went out but she does know that her dragon has disappeared and she has no idea where he is.

Shane grunts. “No can do, kid, sorry—” He leaps over a fallen log and hits the ground running. “Try to— breathe and— stop fucking— trying to _choke me_ , would you?”

Xiaolian practically sobs. “Shane, please, I can’t leave him out there!” She continues to struggle because she can’t bear the thought of Zhiqiang alone in the woods. She _needed him,_ she was sure of it. She felt like something was wrong in her heart. “We have to go back!”

“For the _love_ of _Christ_ , Xiaolian—” He parkours off another tree. “Who in the name of all things holy and unholy are you _talking about??”_

“ _The giant-ass fucking blue dragon who was with me?!"_  She can’t help herself: she hits him on the arm.

He swears, and somehow tucks-and-rolls both of them under yet another tree. “There was no— _dragon_ , Xiaolian, what are you— _talking about?!”_

“The fucking huge-ass dragon that I was leaning on until your Bigfoot ass came and swept me up! Now _take me back so I can find him!_ ”

Shane gives up talking, shifts his grip on Xiaolian, and tears through the forest. Xiaolian literally cannot see individual trees, he is moving so fast, and she's not sure how he's threading the needle through all of them. There is one point where he steps up a series of stumps, fallen trees, and just plain tree branches before hurling himself through the air, tucking and rolling around Xiaolian, and taking off running again— but now they're in a field, and then they're behind Alshaytania, and the back door somehow flies open as Shane skids to a halt just inside the store, and then slams shut behind them both.  The entirety of this journey has taken, perhaps, three minutes. _Tops._

Shane puts Xiaolian down on a chair, then slumps against a bookshelf, breathing so hard he cannot speak.

Xiaolian immediately tries to get up and head for the door.

He lifts a hand, and the door absolutely _will not budge_ , no matter how hard Xiaolian pulls.

Xiaolian is suddenly filled with so much anger she can feel her hands start to shake. She can hear the river again, even though she’s nowhere near it, and the sound is _deafening_. The water is roaring in her head, and she tightens her grip on the sword

The sword's flames leap to life, terrifyingly bright in the darkness of the bookshop, and worryingly large, licking at the ceiling. However, nothing seems to catch the flames, and Shane just watches her, his chest still heaving. Out of the sword, along with the flames, slithers Zhiqiang, who coils around her protectively.

The second she sees the brilliant azure of Zhiqiang‘s scales, a sob rips itself out of her throat. “Zhiqiang, you’re _safe.”_ Xiaolian wraps the one arm not carrying a sword around his head and pulls him close.

The flames die down significantly, becoming long licks of fire along the blade, and turning slightly more blue than gold. Zhiqiang nuzzles the side of her head gently.

She pulls away slightly to look him in the eyes. “What happened? Suddenly you were gone and the flames went out. _I was terrified_. I couldn’t sense you at all.”

“You were not you,” he says, simply.

Despite the utter horror she had just felt at him not being there, she scowls and pushes his big head away. “God, of course you have to be vague, you fucking prick.” She pulls him back immediately though, the previous minutes events still in her mind. She looks over at Shane.

Shane has _almost_ gotten his breath back. He seems entirely unfazed by both the draconic apparition and the flaming sword that might well have burned his bookstore down.

Xiaolian remembers that he had saved her, and feels deservedly guilty. “Are you okay?”

He exhales a long, slow breath, staring at her. “...Considering everything? Better than I should be.”

Xiaolian stares at him. “Um..the whole ‘gotta go fast’ thing and the parkour. How?”

“...Practice.”

Xiaolian has had a long night. “Hm, that sounds… like bullshit. Like total bullshit.”

“Nope.” The p pops like bubblegum. “I've practiced a _lot_.”

“Of course. Your secret to hopping through trees like you’re in fucking Assassin’s Creed and running faster than humanly possible is _practice.”_ Xiaolian sneers at that. “I practice singing Beyoncé _a lot_ and yet here I stand before you still sounding like a bunny giving birth to a porcupine.”

Shane regards her levelly, then stands up, slowly, pulling himself off the bookcase.

For some reason, Xiaolian immediately steps back. Her body moves on its own, arms bringing her sword up at the ready and her stance shifting into something defensive.

Shane seems to grow a couple of inches, looming over Xiaolian in the dark among the towers of books. “ _Chen Xiaolian_ ,” he says, and his voice is deeper, darker, and yet entirely unchanged from his normal voice.

Xiaolian sucks in a breath and tightens her grip. “Zhiqiang.” Her voice comes out as both an order and a call for help. The flames once again start to grow taller as her adrenaline spikes.

Zhiqiang is there, curled around her, but he is very quiet.

Shane looks down at her, his gaze even. Somehow, that's the thing that's most terrifying.

“ _Chen Xiaolian_ ,” he says again, “have you learned _nothing_ , living in this town?” He takes a single step forward. “Are you truly such a _child_ that you cannot comprehend when _you are in danger?”_ Another step. “ _Furthermore_ , do you have _so little respect for your elders_ that you cannot see when _we are protecting you?”_

One more step. He is close enough that she could slash him with the sword, if she wanted to. “You would repay me with defiance and anger? Go ahead. Do your worst, little one. And when you are finished, when you have decided you have adequately vented your fears and frustrations, I will continue protecting you, _even if that means keeping secrets._ ”

Xiaolian can feel his presence pushing down on her lungs. She feels like she can barely breathe. But she wouldn't be herself if she wasn’t a little shit at the worst times. “Protecting me? I’m more terrified of you than of what ever was out there in that forest. Now you listen here, Shane. Sit your angry ass down so I can figure out how the hell I even know to hold this position. My ankle is hurt, I am tired, scared, and worried, _for you_.” Xiaolian can feel tears roll down her cheeks, to her utter surprise. “Back off.” And despite her instincts screaming at her to hold her ground, she pulls her sword back. Because there is one thing that Xiaolian will never do, and that is hurt the people she loves.

He slowly, _ever_ so slowly, shakes his head. “ _You_ are tired, scared, and worried? Jesus Christ on roller skates, Xiaolian.” She can feel the deep disappointment rolling off him in waves as he turns away, rubbing at his face with one hand. He pulls his phone out of his jeans pocket with the other, and starts dialing a number.

Xiaolian immediately lets go of whatever power she was using to keep herself up. The flames go out instantly and her head rushes. Her stomach feels like it’s twisting in on itself and her lungs feel stuffed. “S-Shane, I’m not feeling so good...” She stumbles when she tries to take a step forward.

He sighs, steps forward, and steadies her, his familiar hand warm on her upper arm.  “Am _I_ taking you home, Xiaolian, or do I need to finish this phone call?”

Xiaolian is _really_ not feeling good. All the adrenaline and the pushing her powers farther than she’s ever gone before. “I— I don’t...home?” She gets a flash of Bolin’s face, then her parents. Her parents? They’re going to be so mad at her for staying out. Her head feels like it splits. “H— home. Yeah, I don’t want mom and dad to be mad.”

He slips his phone back into his pocket and picks her up into his arms. “ _Fuck,_ ” he breathes, “what I wouldn't give to have Adam here right now.” He looks at the door, and it opens; he walks out, and it closes behind him.  He pauses on his back step, looking around slowly. He takes a deep breath, then begins walking. Normal pace, this time. The Chen house isn't too far; but then again, nothing is far in Willow River.

Xiaolian doesn’t really feel Shane pick her up. She can’t stop worrying for some reason. The colors azure and gold starts to bleed into everything she sees. “Shane. You have to promise you won’t tell my mom I have a dragon. Shane, promise.” She’s still crying, she thinks. “Shane, when did you dye your hair gold. My dad is gonna hate that.”

He sighs, softly, and keeps walking. He was never very good at this sort of thing. In a few minutes, they've reached the back door of the Chens'. Shane once again looks at the door, and it swings open. Bolin isn't home yet; the house is quiet and empty. Shane brings Xiaolian to her room, stoops slightly and pulls the covers back on her bed, and settles her into it, tucking her in.

Xiaolian stares at him. She doesn’t recall the world ever being in those colors but who's to say?  Suddenly she sits up. Her heart clenches because something is _terribly terribly wrong._ “I need to talk to my mom.”

Shane kneels by the bed, slowly, and takes one of Xiaolian's hands in his, and puts the other on her head. “Xiaolian,” he says, softly, “I need you to listen to me.”

Xiaolian can’t. The gold and the blue start to disappear and something in her is screaming to _go check their room, go go go go._ She gets out of bed. “Mom?!”

Shane sighs again – it seems to be a habit tonight – and lets go of Xiaolian, sitting back on the floor against her nightstand. He'll wait.

Xiaolian breaks into a jog, heading down the hallway to her parents’. The colors are fading faster and faster and she really doesn’t like the darkness that’s left.

The house is dark, cold, and silent. Of course, it's been over a decade ... Xiaolian's parents' room is not their room anymore. It's mostly an office, set up with a computer and a small bookshelf, but in the corner there is a small table with a picture, a couple candles, an incense holder shaped like a dragon, and an arrangement of rocks around a small ceramic pot of water.

Xiaolian freezes when she opens the door to their room. The colors are gone. They’re gone. Of course they are. She slowly walks back to her room, where she sits down in front of Shane. She doesn’t do anything for a moment. But then she curls up and hides her face in her hands. She’s crying again, or she might not have ever stopped. “ _Bàba, māmā, wǒ xiǎng nǐ._ ” She lets out a loud sob. “ _Wǒ xiǎng nǐ!"_

Shane slides himself forward, and pulls Xiaolian into his arms, leaning her back against his chest. He rocks her back and forth gently, one hand on her head, which is nestled under his head, and he begins singing softly, an old Chinese lullaby. “ _Yuè er wān wān xiàng yītiáo chuán guà tiānshàng..._ ” He strokes her hair, shifts a little, wipes a few tears away. “ _Huán guà xīngxīng tā yīrán qīngyíng piāodàng ..._ ”

Xiaolian can feel herself shaking. She grips his shirt. “I’m so sorry Shane. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

He just holds her close, still rocking, and finishes the song – his eyes are closed, both of them framed in the moonlight coming through her bedroom window. “ _Yángfān xiàngzhe xīfāng háng zhè xiǎo xiǎo yín chuán duō ānxiáng..._ ”

Xiaolian can't stop apologizing. She doesn’t even know what she’s apologizing for anymore. Being reckless? Raising a weapon to him. Pulling dumb shit like thinking her parents were alive? Everything she does is basically a mistake. “I could have hurt you. I could have _hurt you_.”

“Oh, my sweet summer child,” he murmurs into her hair, “you could never harm me.”

“But I tried. I raised a weapon towards you, I—” she chokes up. “Everything I’ve done is wrong. It should have been me.”  She slows her breathing down and drops her voice to a whisper. “It should have been me.”

He strokes her hair again. “Nothing you did tonight was wrong. Reckless, perhaps. Ill-advised, certainly. But...” He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “You are young, still. Young, and rightfully scared. There is no shame in that.”  He shifts her forward, and picks her up again, putting her back in bed. “Time to sleep, Xiaolian. Everything will be here in the morning.” He looks deeply sad, for just a moment, and then it is gone.

She sucks in a shaky breath. She trusts Shane. She trusts Shane with everything. Why wouldn’t she? She loves him, he’s family, he would never do anything to hurt her or lie to her. Not _her_ Shane. She realizes her lips are moving and she probably said that all out loud. Whatever, nothing he hasn’t heard before probably. She can feel herself crashing. It really had been a long night. “Goodnight Shane. Love you…” She falls asleep easily, feeling safe with Shane in the room, his lullaby playing in her head.

He watches her fall asleep, listening to her murmured ramblings, and sighs one last time before standing up, leaving the house, crossing town to Alshaytania, and heading into the basement. His night was nowhere near over yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Bàba, māmā, wǒ xiǎng nǐ.” [Daddy, mommy, I miss you.]  
> “Yuè er wān wān xiàng yītiáo chuán guà tiānshàng...” [The moon curved like a boat hangs in the sky…]  
> “Huán guà xīngxīng tā yīrán qīngyíng piāodàng ...” [Hanging in the stars, it's still floating lightly…]  
> “Yángfān xiàngzhe xīfāng háng zhè xiǎo xiǎo yín chuán duō ānxiáng...” [Sailing towards the west, this little silver boat is very peaceful...]


End file.
